


If the Whole World is Crashing Down, Fall Through Space Out of Mind Again

by foodandfandoms



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: AU, Angst, Comfort, M/M, Nightmare, Some Fluff, set 6th or 7th year ig??, tw: depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 03:39:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18241631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foodandfandoms/pseuds/foodandfandoms
Summary: It's Baz's mum's birthday and he's upset. Simon notices.





	If the Whole World is Crashing Down, Fall Through Space Out of Mind Again

**Author's Note:**

> I hope I'm going to get better at writing summaries because it's not looking good so far.  
> The title is from 'Empire Ants' by Gorillaz, a great song I recommend  
> Enjoy!!

As the clock struck 2am, Baz stepped quietly into the room that held Snow’s sleeping form, careful not to wake the boy. There was always this twinge of pain somewhere in Baz’s stomach when he entered this room that they had shared for so many years, his sanctuary and his prison. There had been times where he could not bare even the sight of the shared space, and times when it had been hard to keep away. Now he just felt tired.

After a quick shower the boy made his way into his bed, dark hair falling in tendrils round his face and curling at the ends. Baz lay for a moment staring at the ceiling before turning his eyes on the boy he had loved for years.

Simon Snow.

It almost hurt to look at him; Baz felt the inexplicable urge to shield his eyes. Bright as the fucking sun. Yet defenceless in sleep, curled tightly into a ball with his blanket knotted around him. And for the first time in a while, Baz let himself feel. 

It was an uncommon occurrence, for him to let the walls down, even to himself- it was much easier to plot the death of a boy you did not want to kiss stupid- but the sound of Snow’s breath and the soft flop of his hair over his forehead broke his defences tonight more easily than most. He just didn’t have the will power to fight it tonight.

Because today would have been his mother’s birthday.

And what was the point of denying the truth, at this point? He was a vampire, he was in love with his sworn enemy, and he was tired. He had made his way down to the tomb within the catacombs just before midnight, sat beside his mother’s grave, and wept there for the first time in years. He wept and apologised over and over, because she would have killed him, and if he had had the backbone, he would have finished the job. But he didn’t, and she was gone.

So he had left new flowers at her tomb- these would wilt much less quickly than if he had just cast 'April Showers' on the old ones- in the hopes that those God-forsaken rats wouldn’t be the only living beings keeping her company, cried until he could bare to stop, and left. If he didn’t sleep soon there would be no way for him to have the energy to get up for his classes tomorrow, and if there was anything his mother valued above all else, it was school.

No tears fell from Baz’s eyes now, staring at Snow’s serene face, mind working at 100 miles per hour. Some self-destructive part of him wanted the other boy to open his eyes, if only so he could hurl insults at him. That always made Baz feel better: prodding and poking him until there was (literal) smoke coming out of his ears. However, some part of his mind told him that this wasn’t something that would put him out of his depressive state today- he wasn’t sure there was much that could.

It was times like these, in the middle of the night, when Baz would remember details about his mother that had been all but forgotten, like the feel of her hand in his, the colour of her hair. It was sometimes hard to bare the idea of her fading from his memory; he could hardly remember the sound of her voice, the shape of her eyes when they were crinkled in laughter. Each part of her he lost felt like a betrayal, but the truth was hard to ignore on days like these.

Baz turned onto his back, gazing up at the high ceiling. He sometimes wondered what his life would be if the vampires had never attacked Watford, though it did no good to dwell on such things. For starters, he would be alive. The Mage most likely would not have been able to seize power, so there wouldn’t have been any ‘reforms’. Which would have meant no Snow. Baz shifted his gaze back to his sleeping enemy. There was no way he would have made it into Watford, what with his questionable heritage and lack of ability to direct his magic anywhere other than everywhere. And maybe, Baz thought, maybe one good thing came out of this- he met a boy with blue eyes and bronze curls a bigger heart than anyone Baz knew.

“Baz?”

At some point during Baz’s ponderings, Snow had opened his eyes and they were now staring at him suspiciously. Baz’s lip curled over his teeth and met Snow’s gaze with a sneer, pulling the walls he had so foolishly let slip down back over his emotions. The result was half-hearted at best.

“Go back to sleep, Snow,” Baz said resignedly. He rolled onto his other side, attempting to shut off any attempt Snow might make at conversation.

“What’s wrong?” Crowley, of all times, he chooses now to be perceptive?

“What makes you think I would ever confide in you?” The idea was laughable, really. Snow hated him more than probably anyone in the world, he was sure of it.

“Well- I just…fine then. Brood.”

And with that, an uncomfortable silence fell over the Room. Baz was relieved for it, because this was normal; something he had experienced almost every time he and Snow had occupied the same space. He let the atmosphere settle over his bones as he finally attempted to fall asleep, eventually allowing unconsciousness to relieve him of the bitterness of reality, if only for a few hours.

\--

There was something wrong, though Simon couldn’t put his finger on exactly what. In the moments before Baz had realised Simon was awake, Simon had been able to see something brewing in the stormy grey eyes of his nemesis. At first, Simon had assumed the other boy was plotting- the default reaction whenever he caught Baz’s eyes on him for a moment too long- but something about this was different. There was a remoteness in Baz’s face that Simon hadn’t seen before, and some deep-rooted emotion Simon couldn’t quite name. The idea of it was keeping him awake.

That had all but dissipated as soon as Simon had opened his mouth to speak, and Baz had effectively shut down. Simon couldn’t explain what had made him say anything at all; maybe it was a culmination of things. Whatever the reason, he had reached out and predictably been snapped at. Which was fine, he was fine. It wasn’t like he had really cared anyway. This was most likely all part of some elaborate scheme, something to get him to lower his defences so Baz could strike him at his weakest. Typical Baz.

He was just drifting off once more when he heard a shuffling. When he forced his eyes open again, it was to the sight of Baz tossing and turning on his bed, limbs tangled in sheets. As Simon deliberated what to do, Baz began to whimper: a desperate, sad sound that did strange things to Simon’s heart. He hadn’t felt so strongly the need to protect another being since the Humdrum had tried to attack him and Penny had gotten in the way, maybe not even since before he and Agatha broke up.

Simon sprung out of bed, his feet moving almost of their own volition, and to Baz’s side. He was careful not to touch the sleeping boy; if he woke up to Simon touching him and tried to strike, the anathema would cast him out of the school. He had been told before never to wake someone from a nightmare- or was that a sleepwalker? - but he couldn’t stop himself from waking the boy in front of him.

“Baz? Baz!”

His eyes flew open and he lurched forward, black hair forming a curtain around his face. The expression on his face when he turned to look at Simon was anything but malicious, and for the first time, Simon was able to glimpse at the depths of pain Baz had smartly hidden beneath layers of quick wit and sharp retorts. For a time that could have been a minute or an hour they stared at each other; Simon could see beads of sweat rolling down Baz’s forehead. He seemed to be deliberating something. Then, Baz’s face crumpled like paper before Simon’s eyes, and he dropped his head into his hands.

“Can I sit?” Simon said warily. He wasn’t sure how to react to this different version of Baz, one that didn’t seem to have the will to utter a biting remark.

“If you must,” Baz breathed. Encouraged, Simon took a seat next to Baz on his bed and set an arm over his shoulders. For a moment, Baz tensed, before melting into the touch.

“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” Simon asked again, more softly than the last.

“Why would you care? Since when do we care about each other?”

“I- I care, okay? I never said I didn’t care.” Baz’s head rose and he ran his fingers through his hair, pulling it slightly at the roots before realising and making bits stick up at angles that would have been comedic if it hadn’t been for the situation. “Come on Baz, tell me what’s wrong, so I can fix it.”

“You really want to know what’s on my mind, Snow? It’s my mother’s birthday today.” He finally looked up at Simon, who stared at Baz open-mouthed. “Care to impart some of your immeasurable wisdom onto me as to how this entire situation can be ‘fixed’?” His tone was more severe than before, but the pain in his eyes told Simon an entirely different story. Baz looked away.

“I- Well- It’s-”

“Use your words, Snow,” but there was no cut to his words this time, and the remote look had returned in his eyes. In this moment, all Simon knew was that he wanted that look out of Baz’s eyes, he wanted to protect this boy from a world that was so often kind but too often cruel.

“I’m- I’m sorry that you lost your mother. I can’t imagine how that feels and I’m not going to pretend I understand, because I don’t but- Merlin!” Simon swore in frustration, letting his arm drop to the bed- “this isn’t coming out right. I suppose what I’m trying to say is I can’t make any of this go away, but I can listen, I can be here.” Simon glanced at Baz out of the corner of his eye. “If you want me, at least,” he ended lamely, cursing himself at his inability to use the only language he knew.

And then Baz- strong, brilliant, stubborn Baz- slipped his long-fingered hand into Simon’s, and without looking in Simon’s direction murmured: “Fine. You can stay, if you must.” 

If you must. It was like he was deliberately trying to wind Simon up. Old habits died hard, he supposed. Still, progress was progress. And if this was how Baz had to act to accept some kind of help from another human being, Simon was willing to put up with his smart mouth (like he hadn’t done for years already).

“Do you want to try going back to sleep?” Simon asked hesitantly, unsure of what to do next.

“Okay.”

They lay side by side for a moment, acclimatising to the idea of sharing a bed with the other. It seemed such a turn of events that Simon could have laughed, had the reasoning for the situation been different. Then, slowly, he felt Baz roll towards him. Simon wrapped his arms around the taller boy, though he seemed small now- small and vulnerable. He allowed Baz to tuck his head into his chest, trying to shelter the boy from a world that seemed like it was out to get him.

He supposed this would be something they needed to discuss, but that could wait till morning. Right now, all Simon would worry about was the sad boy he held tightly in his arms. Some things were better off left for another day.

“Simon?” He felt his heart stutter at the sound of his first name on Baz’s lips. That was…new.

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, have a good day:)


End file.
